


Scratching the Itch

by the_real_cactus_betty



Series: A LoVe Choose-Your-Own-Smut-Venture [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Do I need a plot?, Ex Sex, F/M, My First Smut, One Shot, Only One Pile of Cushions, Questionable Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 08:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_real_cactus_betty/pseuds/the_real_cactus_betty
Summary: What if ... you had an itch to scratch and Logan Echolls was near?
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: A LoVe Choose-Your-Own-Smut-Venture [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958485
Comments: 23
Kudos: 73





	Scratching the Itch

Veronica doesn’t know how she ended up here, laying on an assortment of pillows in a makeshift bed on the floor of a cheap motel in Palm Springs. It had something to do with Mac and Max, and the Grade my Ass website. There was a conversation with Mac, somewhere along the lines of ‘Veronica, want to come to Palm Springs with me? It will be great fun! It’s just one day at the convention to present Grade my Ass to some interested buyers.'

So, of course, who wouldn’t be tempted by a free trip to sunny Palm Springs, sipping ice-cold drinks by the pool? At no point in this conversation, did Mac ever mention the presence of one Logan Echolls.

Veronica is _sure_ she would have remembered that.

And she most certainly would not have come.

Because if you told Veronica Mars this morning that she would be sharing a pillow assortment on the floor, under the same blanket as Logan, she would have tasered you. Twice.

Yet, here she was, in exactly that predicament, fuming, steam coming out of her ears from the mere presence of him. Not just now, but _all day long._ It was simply too long to spend near an ex who was improving in looks by the day. It was criminal, and if anyone knew criminals, it was Veronica Mars.

Damn you, Logan Echolls.

In true style, Mac was _sure_ the room she booked had two beds. But alas, there was only one. When Veronica tried to pay for another room, thrusting her credit card in the receptionist's face, she was met with a sad shake of the head. 

“Sorry, all booked out for the convention.”

She wanted to roar into an abyss. But instead, she tied her hair into a ponytail, picked up her bag and followed Mac and Max to their room, Logan trailing behind.

Veronica and Logan had been broken up nearly a year now. There was Piz, then some bloody fights, then no more Piz. They hadn’t spoken since the last _incident_ , the Gory Sorokin incident, and Veronica was more than fine with that. Because it was established, she had cut him out of her life, they were done.

Mac and Max lay in two lumps under the covers of the queen bed. They had taken the official torch of the happy-couple so it made sense for them to share the only bed. Of course, when Veronica suggested it, she was sure that there would be more than one spare blanket. She’d fully intended to place herself as far as humanly possible away from Logan. She’d sleep in the bathroom perhaps?

Logan had huffed and puffed but primarily he lounged on the chair watching her squirm at the terrible inconvenience of it all. This only served to make Veronica all the more angry. She bent over, fashioning their makeshift sleeping quarters, knowing very well that he was staring directly at her ass. His cheeks cracked into that familiar leer as he pointed to a gap in her cushion palace.

“Missed a spot.”

Veronica almost replied, but she knew he was baiting her for a reaction. _I will smother you with a cushion while you sleep,_ she thought to herself. 

She’d laid out all the towels in the room to cover the horrors that lurk on a motel floor and then topped it with all the spare cushions and pillows she could find. After putting on her pajamas in the bathroom, she laid down, as far away as logistics would allow. Sharing a scratchy red woolen blanket with _him_. 

Mac and Max snuggle into their comfortable bed, she can hear them whisper sweet nothings and baby talk to each other. When she hears the word “schnookums,” she almost vomits into her mouth. But they quiet down, and finally fall silent. The room is mostly dark, just a dim light filtering through the curtains.

She tries not to think about Logan lying behind her, not to think about _all of him_. Long, lean, and muscled. His breathing is leveled, quiet. Even his quiet breathing enrages her.

His stupid, annoying breathing, his sexy body _right there_. 

Twelve inches from her. 

They’d spent the last twenty-four hours in each other's company and it was oppressive. Being around him, not being able to touch him, not _supposed_ to want to touch him, but wanting it all the same. It fueled an anger in her, her inability to move past him, still craving him, even after all he’d done.

They barely spoke, but when they did they played the snark game, volleying it back and forth. Short and sharp, keeping it light but at the same time every pointed barb an effort to cut each other deep. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, Veronica couldn’t seem to get past the familiarity of it, almost like their own personal brand of foreplay. 

You snark me, and I’ll snark you.

And here he was, silent for the first time in hours, breath falling lightly. In and out. Laying beside her and all she could think about was touching him. The way it felt to have him want her, need her. The way he touched her, like fire. 

She turned and faced away from him in a huff. The incorrigible, sexiness of him maddened her. He was clearly complicit in this blatant set-up. Only-one-bed my ass! 

The guile!

She blinked her eyes shut, trying to wipe him from her mind. Logan Echolls meant nothing to her anymore.

_Nothing._

She could be as angry as she wanted, she squeezed it out of her pores, but it didn’t help. She still wanted him, yearned for him. She screamed internally at herself, go to sleep Veronica!

Logan turned, his arm brushing against her back.

How dare he!

Veronica spun around, ready to pick up that arm and throw it right back, but as she did, she met his eyes. Brown, so brown they were almost black. His irises bored into hers in the dappled light. Her stomach flipped in a familiar manner, just par for the course when she made eye contact with Logan Echolls.

His pupils were dilated, starting at her hungry, like he might eat her, gobble her up whole.

Fuck, that sounded good.

She wanted to curse at him, but when she opened her mouth, no sound would emanate. She couldn’t force it to if she tried. 

Instead, heat instantly pooled in her core, like she was on fire, all lust and damp sex. How was it possible, with just a look? Her cheeks flushed.

Seeing him awake, staring at her, still having this effect on her was maddening. She scurries back over to her side, turning away from him, from those eyes.

Logan doesn’t speak a word, he doesn’t move.

The room remains silent and still, their bedroom buddies breathing softly, completely oblivious to the internal torment raging in Veronica's mind, and the incessant need surging through her veins. 

“Veronica,” Logan whispers behind her, barely audible so much so that she wonders if she imagined it, like he was just expelling a breath that sounded like her name.

She presses her legs together harder, trying desperately to dampen the ache. 

When he doesn’t get a reply, he repeats his hushed call, “Veronica.”

This time there is no mistaking it.

“Go to sleep, Logan,” she hisses into the darkness.

“I can’t sleep.”

She doesn’t reply for a moment, before relenting with a “me either.”

“Why?” he asks, innocently, but laced with his patented mischievous edge.

_He knows._

He always knows. 

Veronica considers pulling herself out from the blankets, heading straight for the bathroom to quickly take care of business, to take care of the urges that lurk within her. Maybe then she can banish him from her mind and just _sleep?_

But she can’t stop thinking that her fingers just won't feel the same.

They’re not Logan’s. 

His are so much longer, and _thicker_.

“Why?” he asks again, the sound from behind a little closer now, she can feel his breath on her ear and goosebumps rage across her skin. 

Eyes fluttering closed, she reaches behind her, finding his body _right_ there. Taking his hand, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and pulls at his arm. It obeys, following her lead willingly. 

He is now right behind her, flush against her back, his erection resting against her buttocks.

Blood pulses through her, pounding in her ears like a bass drum. 

She pulls open the elastic on the front of her pajama bottoms and guides his hand inside, she can feel his mouth curve into a smile as it presses against her bare shoulder. Like any good man, he reads the cues and reaches in as she directs him into her curls. Veronica pushes him down further, parting her legs and he pauses at her sex, as if diligently awaiting further instructions. 

They’re in a vacuum. Time, space, rules of ex-relationships don’t apply here. Veronica has _needs,_ Logan understands those needs _implicitly._

His fingers hover at her clit, sitting there, just the faintest amount of pressure, but more than enough to drive her crazy.

It’s not enough though.

She takes his hand again, pulling it through her legs and plunges two of his _long_ fingers into her, pushing them in as far as they will go until he relents with his torture and takes over control. Logan Echolls always made her lose her inhibitions in the bedroom. With him she was never afraid, she could be herself without any fear of shame. 

Logan always took her as she was, and worshipped her along the way.

Her body expands and then tightens around his digits, she can feel how wet she is, they slide in so easily, embarrassingly so. 

Logan rests his lips on her neck, kissing the base of her hairline gently.

Veronica thought for sure the others must be able to hear her pounding heart, reverberating against the walls of the room, but there is no movement from the bed above.

Fingertips curl against her walls, beckoning, masterfully finding each and every nerve ending inside her and pouring all of his effort into making her come. Each time he drives in deeper, he presses his hardness into her back, like he’s fucking her at the same time. 

Reaching behind her she squeezes his bulge through his boxers, it thumps hot and hard in her hand. He expels a deep protracted breath as she rubs through the fabric, up and down.

Veronica bites the skin on the inside of her mouth, trying so hard to be quiet. Because if they get caught, if their roomies move, it’s all over and it can’t be over. 

_Not yet._ She's not done with him yet.

His thumb rubs her clit, over and over again. She squeezes her eyes closed, mustering every ounce of composure within her to come silently. So she takes his other hand, and bites against it, hard, fucking his fingers and riding out her orgasm.

As soon as it’s done she realizes it’s not the release she’d hoped for.

She needs more.

She drags her pajama bottoms off, kicking them away and Logan responds by pulling down his boxers. He resumes his spooning position, the firm weight of his cock pressed against her ass feels incredible. Veronica reaches back, taking it in her hand, arching her back, placing it at her entrance.

He slips back and forth in her folds, as if acclimatizing. Veronica pushes back into him and he slowly, agonizingly slowly, dips himself inside, hissing under his breath. 

In and out.

In and out.

Logan picks up the pace, she meets his thrusts with vigor, operating in sync, finding their familiar tempo. 

His cock glides effortlessly in her wetness, coating _every_ single inch; and there are lots of them. This is the difficulty for Veronica, being filled to the hilt with Logan, as he plunges back and forth and having to stay silent, when every part of her wants to SCREAM.

His name. 

Beg him for mercy, for _more._

She wants him to flip her, to be face to face with him, to force him to kiss her. But she knows it’s too much, too intimate.

He is simply scratching her itch.

And his own. 

They are in a cocoon, invisible to the others, or at a point where they no longer cared.

A cry of pleasure lodges in her throat as he slips his hands beneath her shirt, cupping both breasts from behind and he fucks her harder, showing no restraint. Their bodies slap together, it echoes off the walls. 

She cranes her head around as her orgasm begins to quake through her and finds his lips, crushing them against her own. As they share a frenzied kiss, Logan moans her name into her mouth as his tongue assaults hers.

Veronica’s pussy contracts around him, hard, then releasing, then hard. 

He spasms, bucking against her ass as he spills inside her, silent except for ragged, desperate breaths. 

They collapse into cushion-mountain, trying to steady themselves. Logan’s arm remains draped over Veronica’s arm, the sweat from his chest sticking to Veronica’s back. 

“Any time you need to do that, you just ask,” he whispers, “I’m more than happy to provide my services.”

Veronica covers her face with her hands.

_One day._

It only took one day of her being with him before she threw herself at him like a wanton woman. 

Damn that Logan Echolls. 

\--------------------

The next day, they awoke, packed up their belongings, and checked out. At no point does Veronica make eye contact with Logan, not even when they are forced to speak to each other in clipped sentences. 

She makes a pointed effort to look at the floor, face flushed.

Max and Logan jump into the car, Mac and Veronica follow. Just as she is about to open the door, Mac makes eye contact with her over the roof of the sedan. A deep smile crosses her cheeks.

“How did you sleep Veronica?” she asks, voice low.

“Fine,” Veronica replies, suddenly nervous.

Mac stares back at her, “Hussy,” she winks, before opening the car door and stepping inside.


End file.
